


Will You Please Just Grow Up...Again?

by BrandonStrayne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Babies, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, HP: EWE, M/M, Potterotics, Slash, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne
Summary: Draco, Harry, and Ron get a crash course in parenting in this comedy of errors.





	Will You Please Just Grow Up...Again?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Pen15 is Mightier Potterotics group's second monthly challenge, 3 Characters and a Baby.To learn more about the podcast Potterotica, click [here](https://potteroticapodcast.com/). If you would like to read all of the works submitted for this challenge, an anthology epub can be downloaded [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/3ew4csep84b4xs5/3%20Characters%20and%20a%20Baby%20Anthology.epub?dl=0).
> 
> One line was borrowed from [this briliant 9 year old](http://time.com/5229237/new-yorker-caption-contest-9-year-old-girl/).
> 
> One line was borrowed from the movie Three Men and a Baby.
> 
> There's also a brief extract from [ Avery Cockburn's "Playing for Keeps"](https://averycockburn.com/books/playing-for-keeps/). If you, too, want to know how John and Fergus shake out, you should check it out!
> 
> I would also like to thank my wonderful beta readers [Drarryismymuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse), [Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum/pseuds/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum), and [Nymphadorable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphadorable/pseuds/Nymphadorable) . You guys are the best!

“Hey Neville, how’s the sand garden thingie coming along?” asked Ron, crossing the expansive lawn of Malfoy Manor towards the newest installment; A large stone arch stands at one end of the stone-rimmed rectangle, a curtain of water perpetually falling down towards the bowl in the base of the archway which looks a bit like a Pensieve. The bowl is resting on the glistening white sand that fills the rest of the garden and makes you want to take off your shoes and wiggle your toes in it. The sand is dotted with 2 medium size boulders that have been enchanted to glow at night, gradually cycling through the rainbow of colours, as if lit by a fire within them.

“It’s not a sand garden, Ron. It’s called a Zen garden, and it’s supposed to be great for relaxation. I’ve designed this one to include the four elements; the water curtain, the fire boulders, the sand is earth and the atmospheric charm I’ve cast over it keeps the air warm and is enchanted to smell different according to each person’s preferences. For me, it smells like a thick forest after a rain.”

“I can see why people pay you so much to do this stuff, Nev. You obviously put a lot of thought into it. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah, actually. I just have one more package of sand left to add. Do you mind doing that while I go and grab the rake from the shed? I’d accio it, but I’m not keen on all those tines flying at me.”

“No problem.” Neville turns away and heads towards the shed while Ron looks around for the last bag of sand. Not seeing anything, he pulls out his wand and shouts, Accio sand. Hearing a clamour from up near the manor, Ron turns around and sees a large glass canister flying towards him and braces himself for the impact. Fortunately he manages to catch it, letting out a little oomph as the large jar barrels into his chest, knocking the wind out of him a little.

Struggling with the size of the jar, Ron manages to pull the lid off of it and steps onto the Zen garden, pouring the sand out as he walks backwards from one end of the garden to the other. Finally he runs out of sand and steps out of the garden, casting a quick Evanesco on the jar. Ron takes a moment to enjoy the tinkling sound of the water and the warm air that has just a hint of freshly baked apple pie in it. Neville really is talented at all things “garden”.

“Thanks Mate!” Neville slaps Ron on the shoulder as he comes up from behind, rake in hand. “Now all that’s left is to rake the sand, but before I do that…”

Neville tosses the rake down on the grass and kicks off his shoes. Stepping out onto the sand, he wiggles his toes down into it for a second and then promptly drops down to his knees and rolls over onto his back, arms and legs stretched wide.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he laughs, as he slides his legs and arms along the sand, leaving a imprint of a rather large sand angel. With a loud POP, he Apparates off the garden and pops back into existence next to Ron, who is still laughing at Neville’s child-like antics.

“Ugh...Ron...I don’t feel so good.” Turning to Neville, Ron’s smile quickly melts off his face and is replaced with a furled forehead of concern. Neville stumbles forward and is caught under the arms by Ron, but before Ron can process what’s happening, the weight resting on him suddenly begins to ease. Neville is... shrinking.

Neville lets out a garbled cry as the years slowly roll back from his face and all of his limbs start to contract in on themselves and Neville’s trousers and pants fall to the ground, his waist too small now to hold them up. The whole process only takes a few seconds, and before he can do anything, Ron is left holding a very upset, very naked, very baby Neville at arm’s length.

“Well...this is new.”

Baby Neville lets out a wail.

 

***

 

“Would you please desist with that incessant flicking!”

Harry lowers the remote, momentarily ceasing his perusal of the channels to find something interesting to watch, and turns his head to look at Draco, who is curled up beside him on the chesterfield reading a book.

“I’m not sure what I did to make Arthur hate me so much, but surely he must. The day he modified that infernal contraption to be able to work in Magical households was the worst day of my life.”

“I think it’s brill! I never got to control the telly growing up, and now I have one that picks up any channel I want. The only problem is that I didn't realize how hard it can be to find something good to watch.”

“I hardly think you can ascertain whether something is going to satisfy you after mere seconds.” Draco rolls his eyes at Harry before directing them back at the pages of his book.

“Well, I can’t argue with you there. It definitely takes more than a few seconds to satisfy me,” Harry retorts with a smirk on his face, enjoying the faint blush that tinges Draco’s cheeks. Even after all these years, Draco still can’t quite subdue his embarrassed reaction to Harry talking about their sex life, and Harry finds it adorable, so he makes sure to take advantage of it as often as he can.

Leaning forward, Harry sets the remote control on the coffee table and then shifts his weight towards Draco, nuzzling into his neck, because he suddenly isn’t that fussed about what’s on the telly. He licks briefly behind draco’s earlobe before blowing a light stream of air across the wet skin, causing goose pimples to rise on his skin and Draco to tilt his head to the side, encouraging Harry to continue, but still making a show of reading his book.

Smiling against Draco’s soft skin, Harry takes in a deep breath, letting the grapefruit smell of Draco’s favourite shampoo fill his lungs. Trailing kisses down Draco’s jaw, Harry finally makes his way over to Draco’s lips, but restrains himself, settling for placing a hint of a kiss just at the corner of his mouth.

Draco huffs a sigh of put-on annoyance as Harry slowly pulls the book out of Draco’s hands.

“Stop destroying my books, you savage!” Draco’s annoyance sounds slightly less put-on as Harry dog-ears his current page and drops the book to the floor.

Smirking, Harry lowers his lips to Draco’s and it’s a moment before he responds, threading his long, slim fingers through Harry’s shaggy hair and giving it a firm pull that drags a moan out of Harry’s throat.

“Harry?!” A voice is shouting from a distance and barely breaks through Harry’s lust-fogged mind.

Ignoring the voice because surely they’ll go away if they know what's good for them, Harry refocuses on Draco’s delicious kisses and strokes their tongues together.

“HARRY?!” The voice is definitely getting closer and it sounds like Ron is upset about something.

Draco gives Harry’s lower lip a gentle bite, sliding back until the lip breaks free and then clucks his tongue. “It sounds like your friend, the Weasel, needs you. His timing, as always, is spectacularly terrible.”

Harry gives Draco an innocent peck before pulling away and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to sort it out. “He’s your friend too, you know.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m not sure how my home came to be infested with an entire hoard of Gryffindor goonies.” Draco still likes to insist that his housemates are an imposition, but his expression and tone never match his words.

“Don't forget Luna, you also have a Ravenclaw kicking around the place.” Harry responds with a wink. 

“You've missed the point entirely.”

Draco is still rolling his eyes when Ron bursts into the sitting room, carrying a naked infant as far away from himself as he can, as if afraid it is going to attack him.

“Ummm...Ron? Where did you get a baby from?” Harry looks genuinely perplexed. He would assume it is George and Angelina’s new baby, but this baby looks too old and, a dead giveaway, is missing the trademark Weasley hair.

“It’s...it’s...Neville,” Ron finally manages to stammer out, looking back and forth between the baby and Harry, with a desperate hope for salvation painted across his features.

“Don’t be daft, Weasel. I know that Neville is fit and a total hunk if you’re into that whole sweaty, outdoorsy type—OW!” Draco is interrupted by Harry giving him a sharp pinch on the bicep along with an impressive scowl. 

Rubbing at his bruised arm, Draco continues his statement, “Which, clearly, I am not as I have an incurable weakness for speccy gits, right snookums?”

Harry's face displays a jumbled mess of annoyance, mild disgust and amusement, before eventually rolling his eyes and amusement wins out. “You’re such a wanker sometimes.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Draco continues, “despite Neville's arguably attractive qualities, I think we would know if he had a child. Pansy has certainly not carried a child to term, and Neville is over the moon for her. Besides, if she ever caught him making googly eyes at another woman, I am confident that his poor testicles would retract of their own volition just to avoid the inevitable slaughter.”

Ron is too distraught to even take notice of Draco's joke. “No, listen, it's not Neville's. It's Neville! This—” Ron gestures his head toward the wailing infant, which is kicking its legs and looking possibly more miserable at the situation than Ron is, “is Neville!”

A moment passes in which the only sound and movement in the room is arising from the baby, until finally Harry demands a simple, “Explain.”

Ron looks desperately around the room until his eyes land on a plush armchair in the corner and he rushes over and places the baby down on the seat. He turns back to Harry and Draco, but spotting the remote control, he grabs it and hands it to the baby, who blessedly stops it's caterwauling and sucks happily on the gadget.

“Hey—”

Harry begins to protest before Draco cuts him off, “It's a worthy sacrifice if it keeps him happy and quiet. Now, Weasel, please explain where this baby came from.”

Ron paces the sitting room carpet in front of the fireplace as he begins to relay the story. “Okay, so I was outside with Neville, helping him set up that sand-garden-thingie—”

“Zen garden.” Both Harry and Ron cast looks of exasperation at Draco for the interruption. “Well it's not a hard thing to remember!”

“Fine, so I was out helping Neville with the final touches on the ZEN garden,” he shoots Draco a pointed look before continuing, “and Neville asked me to add the final package of sand to the garden. I did that and when he came back he laid down and made a sand angel,” Draco rolls his eyes at this, “and then next thing I know he's shrinking and...and…,” Ron waves his hand in the general vicinity of the now gurgling baby, “THAT!”

“But...that's not possible,” Harry shoots Ron a concerned look, like he's lost the plot.

“There must be more to this Weasel, what are you leaving out? Don't leave any details out.” Draco's face has taken on the look of determination and consideration he gets whenever he's trying to work out the solution to an extra difficult puzzle. He’s shifted his body forward and is practically hovering on the edge of the couch. Draco can’t resist a good puzzle, which makes him perfectly suited for his job as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Harry has never found puzzles particularly appealing, but he finds Draco solving puzzles puzzlingly appealing.

Ron's nervous pacing ceases as he focuses on retelling the story, making sure to not leave any detail out, as trivial as it may seem. “So then I said 'No Problem’ and Neville walked towards the gardening shed. I looked around but I couldn't see any sand, so I said ‘Accio sand’ and it came flying out of the manor and—”

“Wait, did you say it came flying from the Manor?” Draco interrupts Ron and his eyebrows are drawn together in a severe frown.

“Yeah, bloody huge too! And winded me something good when that thick glass jar slammed into me—”

“FUCK!” Ron is once again interrupted, but this time Draco launches himself off the couch and speeds out of the room without any explanation. Ron and Harry exchange looks of confusion and surprise before hearing a more faint, “FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!” emanating from what sounds like the basement, where Draco has his home office. They both head towards the door before remembering baby Neville and looking at him anxiously. Before they can work out who should stay with Neville, Draco shuffles back into the sitting room, somehow managing to look even more pale than he usually does.

“Draco, what's wrong?” Harry rushes over to his partner's side, concerned that he may be about to pass out.

“I have been working down on level 9 in the Time Room. I've been experimenting with the Bell Jar; I want to see if it's possible to combine its effects with a time turner. So you could...make different choices.”

Harry tightens his grip around Draco's waist. He knows how much Draco tortures himself about the choices he made—or rather, that were made for him—in his youth. It wasn't easy to get over, but Draco works hard everyday to be better and has proven his remorse is sincere to Harry every moment they've been together.

“I’ve just managed to work out a method for obtaining a stable infusion of the sand; all my previous attempts kept resulting in the sand spontaneously reverting back to huge piles of rocks in my laboratory. I was so excited that I seemed to be making progress and I just didn't want to delay for a full three weeks just because I am being forced to take this ridiculous vacation—”

“Draco, you haven't taken a vacation in 3 years! It's legitimate that they are concerned you are burning yourself out. The vacation is for your own good!”

Harry is working up a good head of steam at Draco's obstinacy and workaholic tendencies. This isn't the first time they've fought about Draco's work habits, and it won't be the last, but there's more important issues at the moment, so Draco gets them back on track. “Yes, fine, but what I'm saying is that I didn't want to lose the momentum of my progress, so I...brought some of it home to experiment with here.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Harry's head is turning an alarming violet colour. “You of all people should know how dangerous that stuff is! There's a reason they keep it locked up 9 floors underground and behind a grid work of protective enchantments. I've told you the story of our visit to the Department of Mysteries! Sirius died down there! All my friends nearly died down there! That Death Eater—OH!” Harry's head turns towards baby Neville in dawning comprehension as he finally puts the pieces together.

The death of Sirius has always been the most momentous thing from that fateful day he was tricked by Voldemort into putting his friends’ lives in danger, so much so that he had almost forgotten the Bell Jar and watching the Death Eater's head yo-yoing between a normal adult size and that of an infant.

“Shit.” Ron slumps onto the couch and rubs his hands back and forth over his face, barely audible, repetitive _shits_ emanating from behind his palms.

“Shit indeed, Weasel.” Draco sighs and leans closer into Harry, seeking emotional comfort and strength.

“So...what now? How do we handle this?” Harry flickers his gaze between Draco and Ron.

“There’s only one thing we can do.” Steeling himself, Draco pulls his wand out of his forearm holster and casts an _Expecto Patronum_ , the beaming white mist quickly forming itself into a giant scorpion and scurrying away, disappearing through the wall. “I have to call in my boss.”

 

***

 

“I can't believe you'd be so unbelievably STUPID, Malfoy!”

Draco cringes at Hermione's regression to his last name. It wasn't exactly a smooth transition when Draco joined the Department of Mysteries working under Hermione. It took months for him to prove to her that he was a hard worker and was conscientiously shedding the sense of entitlement that was fostered in him since birth. Though a part of Hermione wanted to use any means at her disposal to make Draco's life miserable and drum him out of her department, she found herself surprised to discover that Draco was actually not a terrible employee; He was thorough, inquisitive, persistent and had a knack for seeing a problem from different angles and coming up with novel approaches to solve it. 

Draco had been determined to not let Hermione see his fear. His fear of failure. His fear that he would never be able to wash off the sins of his childhood. His fear that he wasn't good enough. He channeled all of his fears into being an exemplary employee. If overtime work was required, he was the first to volunteer. If one of his co-workers was stuck on a task, he offered them all the help he could, and made sure to not grab the glory for himself. He made sure that his reports were always perfect, down to the last semicolon, and that they were always handed in early. To his surprise, Granger didn't treat him with the active cruelty that he had expected when he was first hired and he increasingly grew to love his job.

Eventually, frostiness on both sides gave way to grudging mutual respect, which in turn gave way to an unburdened admiration for each other's skills. Malfoy and Granger had given way to Draco and Hermione, and a friendship had blossomed. If it weren't for that friendship and Hermione's effusive praise of Draco to her friends, he and Harry might never have reconnected and Draco can't even imagine what his life would be like now if that were the case. He owed Hermione more than he could ever repay her, and hearing her revert back to the old, hostile epithet sent another razor sharp slash of guilt through his stomach.

At Hermione’s raised voice, baby Neville starts wailing again and Hermione storms over to remove him from the baby chair she had conjured for him when she arrived. Bouncing him in her arms, she continues her chastising, “Removing objects from the Department of Mysteries is only to be done with manager approval for a REASON. Those objects are DANGEROUS, and now poor Neville is paying the price. What were you thinking?!”

After a few moments in which Draco is obviously building up the necessary courage, he looks up and meets Hermione’s eyes, “I wasn’t. I was only thinking about myself and what I wanted and I didn’t think about what the consequences might be. I’ll clean out my office on Monday.” Draco breaks away from Hermione’s gaze, his eyes glossy, and Harry rubs his back in support.

Hermione takes a deep breath, visibly calming herself, and rubbing matching circles of support over Neville’s tiny, bare back. “You’re not fired Draco. I will definitely have to write you up for this and it will need to be taken into account for your yearly performance review, but you’re probably the best employee I have. As long as we can correct the situation and get Neville back to his usual self, your job is safe.”

Draco’s gaze shoots back to Hermione and this time his face has a look of incredulous surprise on it. “Thank you Hermione! I promise I’ll never do anything like this again and I’ll work day and night until I figure out how to get Neville back to—”

“No, you won’t. You’re still on your vacation leave and if this doesn’t prove the need for you to get a little distance from your work, I don’t know what does.”

“But you said I’m the best and—”

“You are my best employee, so obviously I’ll work on figuring out an antidote personally.” With that, she walks over to Draco, who is sitting beside Harry on the couch, and hands him baby Neville, who is now happily burbling away, his chin and chest covered in slobber. “Besides, you’re going to be busy taking care of this little guy.”

“But I can’t—”

“I have confidence that you can, and that you will,” Hermione’s tone brooks no argument. Ron lets out a chuff of laughter from the chair to the right and Draco shoots him a dirty glare. “And you’ll have Ron and Harry here to help you. I’m sure between the three of you, you’ll be able to keep one small baby fed, bathed, and changed.”

Ron’s amused face drops into a look of surprised betrayal, “Come on ‘Mione, I don’t see why I have to help the Ferret take care of Neville! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“If you hadn’t been such a numbskull and summoned my sand instead of Neville’s, we wouldn’t be in this mess, Weasel,” Draco spits at Ron.

“How was I supposed to know it was _your_ sand?” Ron retorts.

“How about that it came out of the house, hmm? Or the fact that it was in a giant apothecary jar? How often do you see regular sand sold in jars, you dolt?”

“I...I guess never.” Ron’s shoulders sag in defeat. “Fine, I’ll help with the baby until ‘Mione can set him to rights.”

“And what about me? Why do I have to help with this?” Harry has been very quiet during this whole exchange, just offering silent support beside Draco, but now he pops into the conversation with raised eyebrows and the beginnings of a smirk of amusement on his lips.

“You have to help because you and I are together. Not only do we share a room and therefore you will have the joy of being woken for midnight feedings alongside me, but if you ever want to get lucky with me again, you will help me with this without complaint.”

Smiling, Harry leans forward and gently tugs Draco’s, now baby-spit-soaked, tie out of Neville’s mouth as Draco looks at it in disgust. “I guess this is a small price to pay for the pleasure of your—”

“No details! I do not want the mental picture of two of my mates buggering each other, thanks,” Ron stands up to give Hermione a kiss before she leaves to go back to the Ministry, but just as she is reaching to grab a handful of floo powder, the fireplace erupts with green flames and she’s forced to take a step back.

Pansy doesn’t so much step out of the fireplace as barrels out of it, clearly on a warpath. “Okay, who am I hexing?” Ron takes a not-so-subtle step behind Hermione just as Harry does likewise with Draco, pushing him forward on the couch so he can retreat behind his back. Draco holds baby Neville up in front of him, obviously hoping that Pansy will think twice about firing off any of her infamous hexes if there’s a chance of hitting Neville. Ginny may be famous for her bat-bogey hex, but Pansy has quite the proficiency for the _Scalpio_ hex, and none of them look particularly attractive bald—they know from experience.

“Pans, listen, it’s going to be fine! We’re going to get Neville back to usual in no time.” Draco’s eyes dart between Pansy’s blazing look and her wand hand, which is outstretched towards him and is shaking slightly, like she’s just barely holding herself back. “We’ve been friends since we were both still in nappies—”

“Do NOT mention nappies right now, Draco!” Pansy screams and moves towards Draco, her magic crackling with her anger. Behind her, Hermione makes a motion to hold her back, but Ron stops her. With Pansy, they’ve all learned that it’s best not to touch her when she’s in a right fit.

Draco dips his head in acknowledgement and apology before continuing, “You know I wouldn’t do this on purpose. I know how much you love Neville, and he’s my friend now too. I **promise** you that we’ll heal him and get him back to normal.”

Everyone in the room takes a collective breath as they wait to see how Pansy will react. Baby Neville seems to pick up the tension in the room and starts crying, and it is this that seems to break Pansy out of her swell of anger. Taking a deep breath, she lowers her wand arm and slowly walks up to Draco. Running a tender hand along Neville’s soft vellus covered head, she bends down and kisses his forehead. “I’m sorry I scared you, my little stamen,” Pansy whispers the apology against Neville’s soft skin, using her special pet name for him that she’s used ever since their second date when he almost bored her to tears with plant facts. Since it was Draco that convinced her to give Neville another try, she supposes she owes him one.

This seems to calm Neville down and his crying eases off, his eyes drifting shut in anticipation of a good sleep. The anxiety level in the room eases as the moment of danger passes. “Well, I’m going to head back to the office now and get started on figuring out how to reverse the effects.” Giving Ron one last kiss goodbye, Hermione grabs some floo powder and disappears back to the Ministry.

“It’s good that you’re here Pans, we were just about to work out a schedule for who’s going to take care of Neville until he’s back to normal, so do you want to take tonight and then...”

Pansy holds up her hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and Draco trails off. “No way. There’s no way I’m taking care of him when he’s like this.”

“But he’s your boyfriend Pans, I don’t see why—” Draco tries to continue, but this time Pansy speaks over him.

“Exactly! He’s my boyfriend, which means that at some point in—what had better be the **very near** —future, I’m going to want to have sex with him, and there’s no way that I’m going to do that after having changed his shitty nappies. Some things should remain a mystery in a relationship. You boys are on your own.” Giving one final kiss to Neville’s cheek, who seems to be fast asleep already, she turns on her heels and walks out of the room, leaving the three wizards to sort out their mess.

***

After what seemed like hours of debate, quite a few harsh words, and a fair amount of tears (most originating from Neville), a schedule was finally worked out and Draco was going to be taking the first night shift.

After a brief fire-call to his mother, whose only words of wisdom about how best to tackle parenting a small infant was to “hire a reliable nanny”, Draco placed a panicked fire-call to Molly Weasley, who came right over, even bearing all the supplies they would need—cloth nappies, baby formula and bottles, an old crib that had apparently been the resting place for the entire Weasley clan and a mind-bogglingly large wardrobe of tiny baby clothes.

“I don’t understand why we need so many clothes,” Draco is digging through the piles of shirts, trousers, jumpers, sweaters, socks, and every other conceivable sartorial option. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get Neville back to his adult form in a couple of days, so this seems excessive.”

Molly gives him a pitying look, “You’ll thank me for all those options after he’s spit-up, spilled on, or otherwise sullied that lot and you’re not having to do the washing up twice a day.”

All three wizards have a look of fear when they realize what else could end up “sullying” the clothes and Molly lets out a little chuckle. “Don’t worry boys, you’ll be fine. I’ll show you all the basics before I go today and if anything else pops up you can always reach out to me,” she gives them all a fond smile.

The next few hours are baby boot camp. The men learn everything from how to mix up the formula and make sure it’s the right temperature through to cleaning up the inevitable mess afterwards. Draco puffs up with pride when Molly compliments his nappying, proclaiming it to be just as good as she could have done.

After Molly left, the three wizards feel confident that they can handle this responsibility, and that feeling lasts for almost an entire hour. The first indication that this might not be smooth sailing is when it’s time for Neville’s first feeding and despite Draco following Molly’s instructions to the letter and producing a perfect bottle of lukewarm baby formula, Neville refuses to take it and instead seems to be trying to pierce their eardrums with his voice alone.

“He’s being unreasonable! This bottle is perfect!” Draco is trying to force the nipple of the bottle between Neville’s lips, but the baby keeps twisting his head back and forth, refusing to cooperate.

“He’s a baby Draco, I don’t think ‘reason’ is a reasonable expectation for you to have,” Harry is leaning back against their headboard, rubbing at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses as Draco circles the bed, trying to soothe the baby. Neville has been crying for a solid 30 minutes now and he’s beginning to develop one hell of a headache.

“Oh, ha-ha,” Draco snipes back, clearly starting to lose his patience; usually his retorts are a lot more witty. “It’s been over two hours since Molly fed him dinner and she said we should be feeding him a bottle in 2 hours time, so WHY won’t he take the bottle?” Draco’s voice has spiked and he’s starting to sound a little hysterical.

“I don’t know Draco. I have just as much inexperience with all of this as you do.” Just then their bedroom door bursts open and Pansy is standing in the doorframe with her hands behind her back.

“It’s polite to KNOCK, Pans,” Draco’s guilt about inadvertently cursing her boyfriend seems to have been replaced by irritation at the situation and he snaps at her intrusion.

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d want a little help with getting him fed, but if I was wrong I’ll just go?”

“NO! Wait! Here, take him—”

“Oh no, not that kind of help. I came to offer you this,” removing her hands from behind her back, she holds up...what looks like...a brassiere. Harry and Draco exchange looks of confusion.

“I’m not sure how you think one of your bras is going to help me, but—”

“It’s not one of mine, Draco dahling. I know you’re as gay as the day is long, but this is clearly not my size.” Draco and Harry both drop assessing looks to Pansy’s breasts before quickly averting their eyes, causing Pansy to smirk. “This, gentlemen, is a male nursing bra.”

“You can’t SERIOUSLY think that I will put that...that...THING on!” At Draco’s—he thinks—very righteous indignation, Harry lets out a snort of laughter, but he quickly schools his features when Draco throws a murderous glare in his direction.

“It’s worth a try to get him to feed and stop crying, is it not? We use them at St. Mungo’s sometimes to encourage the babies to take the breast,” Pansy looks far too satisfied with herself and Draco can’t help but feel she’s taking the piss, but he has no idea where she would have obtained the prop if that were the case.

“Well then why can’t you do it? You have breasts, after all!”

“Yes, and quite lovely ones if I do say so myself,” Draco rolls his eyes, “that’s what gave me the idea. Neville is quite the breast man.” At this, she gives them a cheeky wink, “but as I said, you’re on your own for this one. Lactation is not a kink we’ve explored yet, and the first time we do is NOT going to be with him like this.”

Harry’s face turns a shade of scarlet at Pansy’s candid description of her sex life; Draco’s been friends with Pansy for too long to be shocked by her sexcapade stories, but Harry is still adapting to her style, especially considering the information she now overshares regards one of his closest friends.

Seemingly losing interest, Pansy tosses the contraption onto the bed, “Suit yourself, but at least do everyone else in the Manor the favour of casting an industrial strength silencing charm around your room, will you?” Turning around, she stalks back to the door and just before closing the door softly behind her she says, “Don’t worry, it’s been sterilized.”

Draco stoops to inspect the contraption and sees that though it looked like a bra from a distance, it actually has two bladder-like containers in place of the cups, with nipples emerging from them where, well where nipples should be on a breast.

“Do you think she’s taking the piss, then?” Draco leaves the fake boobs on the bed and smoothes his hand in circles around Neville’s back, trying to comfort him.

Harry leans forward and picks up the object, inspecting it. “Honestly? Maybe, but I’m not sure we have much choice. If we can’t get him to stop crying soon, I may go round the bend. Let’s just try it. If it works, then we can finally get some peace and quiet, and if it doesn’t work then we can just keep the fact that we even tried it between you and I and Pansy doesn’t ever need to know.”

“You know I love you right?” Draco looks gratefully at Harry for his reasonable proposal.

“Of course, and let me guess? You’d love me even more if it was me that put on this thing and made a fool of myself?”

“And now I love you even more!” Draco grabs the back of Harry’s head and gives him a sound smooch when he gets off the bed and comes over to get the bottle from him. Harry grins at Draco and sets to transferring the formula into one of the bladders. Climbing back onto the bed and moving so that his back is resting against the headboard, Harry slides his arms into the shoulder loops of the brassiere and settles it into place before he motions for Draco to hand him the baby.

Shifting Neville in his arms and making sure to support him under his neck like Molly instructed, Draco hands the baby to Harry, who sets his lips to the artificial nipple. Neville continues to cry for a moment, but then nuzzles at the breast and latches onto the nipple and begins to suck and for the first time in over 45 minutes there is blessed silence.

Draco lets out a sigh of relief and a murmured _Thank Merlin_ before he crawls onto the bed beside Harry and rests his head against Harry’s shoulder.

“I guess Neville really is a boob man,” Harry turns to Draco with a goofy grin on his face.

“Mmm, looks like it.” Draco settles more closely into Harry’s side and they both lapse into a content silence as Neville finishes his post-dinner snack and drifts off to sleep. Sliding carefully off the bed, he reaches down and takes Neville from Harry’s lap, placing him gently in his borrowed crib and then crawls back into bed with Harry, who has shed the breastfeeding aid and is settling under the covers. Draco crawls in beside Harry and turns on his side, reaching behind him and pulling Harry's arm over his side, interlacing their fingers and curling up to his front. He's fast asleep before Harry even murmurs “Good night Dearest.”

***

“Mmm, no Viktor. Crystallized pineapple is foul; feed me a peppermint toad instead.”

Draco is gradually aroused by soft lips on the back of his neck and a rough hand grazing his side from a pleasant dream in which he lies prone on a fainting couch while the entire Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch team is fanning his scantily clad body with luxurious fans made from fwooper feathers and Viktor Krum is hand-feeding him an assortment of Honeydukes’ finest out of a jewel encrusted fire crab shell, 

Harry lets out a soft chuckle at Draco’s tendency to talk in his sleep and slides his lips around the curve of Draco’s neck and licks a salty path up to his earlobe, taking it between his teeth briefly before letting it slide through their rough edges. “It sounds like you’re having a very nice dream, but I promise that if you wake up now I’ll more than make up for you cutting it short.”

“Mmmm…go away...I’m sleeping,” Draco mumbles, burrowing deeper into his pillow and pulling the duvet up to his chin.

Harry lets his fingertips trail down the side of Draco’s abdomen, swirling around the soft trail of hair that leads down to Draco’s cock. Draco hums in response and turns his torso slightly towards Harry, encouraging further exploration. Harry accepts the invitation and slides his hand down, wrapping it around Draco’s morning erection and giving it a firm stroke, letting his thumb and index finger squeeze the glans slightly.

“I could be making up for the two nights of lost beauty sleep I've suffered since this baby nightmare began. I'm not sure even your wonderful cock is worth it right now.” Draco delivers the admonishment in a huff, but his actions betray him when he lifts his top leg and turns further, draping it over Harry's hip, opening himself up further.

Smiling to himself, Harry starts to pull his hand away, “Well if you'd rather sleep, I can just have a wan—”

Draco's hand darts out and grabs ahold of Harry's wrist, preventing any further retreat and pulling it forward again and down towards his exposed arsehole. “Well, since you've already ruined the delightful dream I was having you may as well continue on with what you were doing.”

Draco finally turns his head to face Harry as fingers, slick from a quick wandless spell, start to circle Draco's entrance. Harry leans down and captures Draco's lips as a soft gasp of air escapes them when Harry inserts one finger, slowly stretching Draco in anticipation of his cock.

They take their time, revelling in the foreplay after having spent the last two days running themselves ragged trying to keep baby Neville happy. It doesn't seem possible that one tiny human should require so much work, and they were both more than happy last night when they passed Neville off to Ron for his turn on the rota. They were both asleep before their heads even hit their pillows.

Draco reaches up and behind Harry's head, running his fingers through the shaggy mop, while his other hand reaches down and starts stroking his own cock with an increasingly frenzied pace. Bending his fingers in the long strands, he gives Harry's hair a rough tug, the action causing Harry's already eager cock to twitch against Draco's backside.

“Are you planning on fucking me some time today?” Draco's pupils are dilated and his lips are swollen and red, abraded from Harry's facial hair.

Harry is too turned on to do any verbal sparring and decides to let actions speak louder than words; removing his fingers from Draco's arse, he slicks up his cock and lines it up with his target, letting out a deep groan as he breaches Draco's tight entrance and plunges home in a single thrust. A small whimper escapes Draco and Harry freezes, giving Draco's body time to adjust to the intrusion. Nuzzling his forehead against the side of Draco's head, he mumbles an apology into his ear, “Sorry, sorry, I got carried away. Are you okay? Do you want me to pull out?”

“No,” Draco licks his lips, his eyebrows pinched together, “no, just...just give me a moment.”

Harry lifts his head and watches the microexpressions flicker across the face he knows so well. Discomfort giving way to relief and finally pleasure as he starts gradually swivelling his hips, retreating and pushing back against Harry as his body adjusts to the rather sizeable addition. Opening his eyes, Draco looks up into Harry's eyes from mere centimeters away, “I'm ready now. I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

Even though they have been together for years and have probably had sex hundreds of times, Harry still can't help the electric bolt of lust that spikes through him when Draco says that. Reaching down, he lifts Draco's leg up, holding it suspended in the air by his arm and opening him up all that much more, then Harry starts thrusting and it's amazing. Draco's channel is hot as it’s squeezing his prick and his head is full of the grapefruit-salt-sweat mixture that is wired to sexual pleasure in his brain; even though it's only been two days since they've done this, Harry doesn't think he is going to last very long. “Dr-Draco, stroke yourself. I-I need to feel you come for me.”

Draco's eyes shoot open and he looks at his hand, a little startled to find it clenched in the bedsheets, apparently having been so engrossed in being filled with Harry's cock that he didn't realize he'd left his own oozing precome, red and needing attention. Releasing the sheets, he takes hold of his cock again, stroking his tight fist over its length in time with Harry's thrusts.

“That's it, Dearest, make yourself come. Merlin, you're sexy. And you know what?” Harry punctuates each of his words with a rough thrust of his hips, “You're. All. Mine.”

With an inarticulate shout, Draco starts to orgasm, come shooting out of the top of his fist and speckling their bedsheets; the contractions in Draco's body give that last rush of sensation Harry needs and he's just tumbling over the abyss when their bedroom door flies open.

“Do you guys have any more nappies, I ran out and he—BLOODY HELL!” Ron's question is cut off by his own exclamation of surprise as he looks up and processes the graphic display before him. Looking away quickly, he holds up baby Neville, clad only in an orange Chudley Cannons shirt, apparently planning to use him as a physical barrier between himself and the spectacle on the bed.

The Hogwarts Express has already left the platform, as they say, and Harry groans in a combination of horror and ecstasy as he comes, shooting pulses of come into Draco's ass, with his best friend in full view.

“GET OUT WEAS—” Draco’s scream is cut off abruptly by a “AGGGHHHH” spluttering sound coming from Ron’s side of the room and, unbelievably to Harry, Draco begins laughing. Harry lets go of Draco’s leg and quickly summons the top sheet, covering himself and Draco—much too late, but still—before raising his face, cheeks stained a violent red. Ron is standing with Neville held aloft and it looks like he’s just gotten out of the shower? There’s water dripping from his hair and—it’s then that Harry realizes what’s set Draco off. Ron’s angry face is covered in urine.

“I g-guess the emergency has p-passed on those nappies,” Draco is having trouble spitting out the barb, his body still heaving with laughter, causing Harry to groan at the continued friction on his oversensitive cock.

Undocking himself from Draco, Harry musters all of his self control to turn to Ron, “Give us a few minutes, mate, and we’ll come down and help you out. There’s some nappies over there.” Harry nods his head in the direction of the nappy bag, hoping that Ron grabs them quickly and leaves because he’s not sure how much longer he can control his twitching mouth. Ron huffs over to the nappy bag, shooting baleful looks at the still chortling Draco and grabs the entire bag, throwing it over his shoulder and stomping out of the room.

Ron’s barely out of the room before Harry loses his hard-fought-for composure and breaks out in laughter alongside Draco. “Merlin’s balls! I don’t know who that was more mortifying for.”

Draco’s laughter slowly fades and he wipes the tears out of his eyes with his come-free hand. “Come on then. Ron’s had his shower, now let’s you and I have ours.” Draco gives Harry a cheeky wink as he climbs out of the bed and Harry gives him a smack on the bum before climbing out after and following him into the shower.

***

Ron walks into the sitting room a few days later and finds Harry sitting on the sofa with Neville resting in one arm and across his lap and a book held open in the other.

“John’s laughter brushed Fergus’s ear, sending a jolt of desire down his spine. Fergus knew if he shifted his left leg just a few inches he’d feel John’s fingers under his thigh,” Harry reads aloud in a treacly tone as Neville stares up at him, remarkably quiet for once. Harry looks up from his book, which Ron can see has a man in a kilt with one foot on one of those weird black and white quaffle-like balls that the Muggles use.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading him one of those Muggle romance books,” Ron smiles at Harry and shakes his head a bit.

"It doesn't matter what I read; it's the tone you use. He doesn't understand the words anyway," Harry retorts, looking slightly sore to have been caught out. When Pansy and Neville started getting serious, she began leaving her smutty books all over the house, wherever she happened to finish that particular one. Curious one day, Harry had picked one up and, much to his chagrin, had become slightly obsessed with them.

“Are you sure though? How do we know that when Hermione eventually finds a way to reverse the magic, that he won’t retain the memories from the last week?”

Harry looks thoughtful for a moment, ‘I guess we don’t, but I hope for his sake he doesn’t. That way we can just all pretend this week never happened.”

“You can say that again, mate.” Ron casts a small scowl in baby Neville’s direction. He’s still not entirely over the golden shower incident, though his wounded ego was salved slightly the other day when Draco scoured the Manor for 20 minutes looking for the source of a mysterious poop smell, only to have Ron point out that he’d gotten a streak of the offending material on his forehead after a particularly traumatizing arse-plosion nappy change. Draco had run from the room and proceeded to take a 40 minute shower and now refused to admit that any such event had occurred and quickly changed the subject whenever it was mentioned by Ron—Harry knows better than to bring it up.

Draco joins them in the sitting room and takes a seat next to Harry, draping his arm along the back of the sofa, across Harry’s shoulders.

“Hiya Shithead,” Ron seems to have found a nickname for Draco that he enjoys even more than Ferret.

Draco steadfastly ignores Ron’s barb and picks up the remote, turning on the telly;Harry places his free hand on Draco’s thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Draco and Ron are technically friends now, but Harry has a suspicion that the length of the friendship may be cut short by Ron’s continued use of that particular nickname.

They’re all just settling in to watch an episode of Antiques Roadshow, one of the few Muggle programs that Draco doesn’t whinge about being forced to sit through the whole time, when the fireplace flares to life and Hermione emerges from a roar of jewel-green flames, expression radiant.

“I’ve done it! I’ve got the antidote!” At her proclamation, Ron and Draco both shoot to their feet, Ron striding over to Hermione and throwing his arms around her in a tight hug.

“I knew you could do it luv!” Ron grabs her head and gives her an exuberant kiss that goes on for a few protracted moments; Hermione has been working long hours over the last week.

Draco clears his throat and Hermione pulls away from Ron and gathers her momentarily scattered thoughts. “How did you solve it Hermione?” Draco asks eagerly.

“Well, I trawled through the Ministry library, but I was coming up empty, so I decided to check out the Muggle London library.” At this, Draco casts Hermione a sceptical look, but she's quick to quell his objections, “I know that you still have doubts about how much Muggle knowledge can offer, but there's always been places of overlap. The magical art of alchemy gave birth to chemistry, which is very similar to modern potions, and there's been remarkable progress in theoretical physics that suggests Apparition may be an applied use of something the Muggles call quantum tunneling and—”

Glancing around at her audience, Hermione notes the looks of forbearance and returns to the plot of her story, “Anyway, I came across a disease related to premature aging called progeria, so I used the liver from mice that express the disease as the key ingredient for the potion I worked out, which is a variant of the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons; I substituted the progeria mouse liver for its aging properties in place of the fire seeds and doubled the billywig sting slime for its curative properties.

“It took a bit of trial and error to get the dosage right, but eventually I was able to revert a baby mouse that I had exposed to the time sand back to full size.” Hermione looks at the three Wizards with an excited gleam in her eye, but they don't seem nearly as excited as she thinks they should be.

“Are you saying you've only tested this thing on mice, Hermione?” Draco doesn't want to offend her since she is still his boss, and Ron seems reluctant to question his wife's potions prowess, so Harry asks the question they're all thinking.

“Well technically, yes... I didn't exactly have any human volunteers, but don't worry, I have it all worked out.” At this she removes a small dropper from her pocket and brandishes it in the air. “We'll give him a drop at a time until he's back to the right age, that way we won't overshoot and accidentally turn him into a octogenarian.”

Pulling out his wand, Draco casts his scorpion patronus, which goes skittering upstairs. “Pansy will want to be here for this...so she can hex you if it doesn't work.”

Hermione's look of confidence wilts a bit and her hand instinctively goes up to her dark, bushy hair. Steeling herself, she straightens her back and nods, “Good thinking Draco. She will want to thank me when I set her boyfriend to rights.”

Pansy runs into the room and before Hermione can even greet her, she's speaking, “You've really found an antidote?! You're brilliant Hermione! What are you waiting for?!”

Harry sets baby Neville down on the sofa cushions and steps back briefly before stopping Hermione as she approaches with the dropper and the vial of potion. Taking out his wand, he casts an Evancesco on Neville’s nappy and covers him with a blanket, “I don’t have an interest in seeing Neville’s dick.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Pansy makes a half-hearted joke, chewing on her nails nervously as she watches Hermione approach Neville again.

Hermione bends over Neville and very carefully dispenses 2 drops of the antidote past his lips. The assembled wizards share an anxious moment in which no one moves and nothing seems to happen, then Neville is rapidly growing before their eyes; his head is expanding quickly, like a balloon filling with air, as his limbs rocket away from him, regaining their lost length. It’s moments later when what appears to be a 5 year old Neville is sitting on the couch, kicking his legs, which are still too short to reach the ground.

“Another couple of drops then,” Hermione leans forward once more and lets fall two more drops into Neville’s open mouth and the stretching begins again and it’s not long before an 11 year old Neville is sitting before them, the only thing missing from their first day of Hogwarts being Trevor the toad. Well, that and his clothing.

Neville clutches the blanket tightly in front of his lap as Pansy lets out a little laugh, “Oh hun, I forgot how much of a minger you were at this age!” She gives Neville a fond smile as his cheeks become rosy and he opens his mouth for another drop of the potion.

Hermione continues to administer the potion 1 drop at a time, Neville jumping forward to 14, 18, 21, 24, until with one final drop he appears to be back to 27 years old and Pansy lets out a shriek of excitement as she launches herself into his lap, claiming his now-familiar lips in a passionate kiss. Their friends look on in amusement until Neville grabs Pansy’s arse and grinds her against him and the assembly decides to give the reacquainted lovebirds some alone time.

Hermione clears her throat and, turning back to Neville on the couch, “We’ll need you to come into the Ministry tomorrow and give us a debrief. We’d like to see whether there are any practical applications, now that we know how to reverse the reaction.”

Neville pulls his lips away from Pansy’s for a moment, who settles for kissing her way along his jaw and down his neck. “No problem ‘Mione, oh and guys?”

Ron, Harry and Draco pop their heads back into the sitting room at Neville’s beckon. “Let’s just all agree that this last week is an ‘unspeakable’, yeh?” The three wizards in the hallway all nod vigorously, very much on board with pretending that this past week never happened. They turn to leave again, but Neville calls out one more time, “Oh, Harry, one more thing?”

“Sure, Nev, anything you need.”

“You have to tell me how that whole John and Fergus thing turns out!” Neville gives him a big grin and then pulls Pansy close and they disappear with a pop of Apparition.

Harry turns with a smile to Draco, who’s already deep in conversation with Hermione about Muggle scientific advances in the field of quantum something or other. Ron can be heard in the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans a sign that dinner should be ready soon—hopefully his famous pasta bake.

“So when do you think we’ll have a baby around this place for real then?” Harry asks, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him back against him.

“I don’t know, but when we do, the poopy nappies are somebody else’s responsibility,” Draco states firmly. Hermione laughs and they resume their conversation, planning a trip for Hermione to demonstrate the wonders of the Muggle library to Draco when he’s back in the office.

Harry rests his chin on Draco’s shoulder and smiles to himself. Babies aren’t so bad.


End file.
